


The Best Things Come In Threes

by tangofox



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Belts, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangofox/pseuds/tangofox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic for Pasha, based on this ask. Grantaire neglects his own health, and his boyfriends Combeferre, Enjolras and Courfeyrac make sure to punish him properly for it</p>
<p>(ask/prompt: "Okay yeah but think about subtaire who sometimes forgets to look after himself properly and so the golden trio take him back to their flat and they have to punish him because he's done something even worse than not obeying them because he is important and because he needs to be healthy and happy so he can please them... All the trio have different ways of punishing him: Ferre spanks him for a long long time and the enjy does the same but with his belt and then Courf decides haha no orgasms...")</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Things Come In Threes

Grantaire had been in the studio going on four days now. He had taken breaks to use the old rusty kettle to make himself instant noodles, and had taken power naps leant on one of the benches, but he had not left. The only reason he was considering it now was he was out of filters, and he hated smoking roll-ups without them. He had texted Jehan asking him to bring them over, but as of yet he hadn't replied, much to Grantaire's annoyance.

He looks at his massive canvas with furrowed brows, wiping the sweat from his brow and ending up smudging blue paint onto his dark skin. He wasn't happy with his work. The canvas was four feet high and six feet wide. By anyone elses standards, it would already be a masterpiece in the works. He had painted Dionysus, standing atop a small hill, pouring wine on top of a group of Satyrs who were dancing and drinking among the vines. It really was shaping out to be beautiful, but Grantaire wasn't satisfied with it. He had resolved to pour his heart and soul into this, and while it was probably the best thing he had ever created, it was proving to be a stressful process, he wanted everything to look just right. 

He's dipping his brush back into his oil paints and getting read to continue with the sky when his phone buzzes. Of course it's at the worst time, this was the first time he had picked up the brush in an hour, and he really wanted to finish off the sky before lunch. He put his paintbrush down on the table and wipes his hands on the rag he has hanging out of his jeans, before taking his phone out, opening up the text. It wasn't Jehan bringing him filters. It was much worse.

Four days. You're in so much trouble. - E

If Grantaire wasn't sweating from the sun beating down through the studio windows, he surely was now. He barely had time to put away his phone before another text came through, and then another.

What are you doing Grantaire?! Have you lost it?! - Courf

If you're not in your flat in the next hour we will be at the studio. And you don't want that. - Ferre

Grantaire swore aloud at himself. Jehan, the little rat, must have told them. He had really hoped to have a week to just stay here and finish his painting without caring about anything else. He hadn't showered, eaten properly, slept properly, and he definitely hadn't been paying attention to his boyfriends. It was difficult as it was, having three boyfriends, but he loved it, and he loved them. And he knew they would lecture some logic into him, even if he took a step back and thought about it he knew he was not doing a good thing, he knew he was going to end up ruining his painting by overworking himself. 

He considers his options as he cleans his brush, frowning at the canvas. He could stay and work, though the trio wouldn't leave an empty threat, they would no doubt be here within the hour to collect him. And he didn't want anyone to see his painting, it wasn't finished. He could go and get a coffee, avoid them and come back to the studio later, and hope they weren't too angry at him. But he didn't actually want to make them upset, he knew they cared about him. That left him with his last option; pack up, go home, and face the wrath of three boyfriends who liked to boss him around. He loved it, he really did, he felt safe and looked after, and life never looked more beautiful than it did when he was on his knees in front of them. 

He packs up quickly, washing off his brushes and his palletes, pulling the big black screen in front of his canvas to keep the sun off his work, and make sure nobody could take a peek at it. Of course it would be easy to just push the screen away, but he doubted anyone would be so rude. Plus, it was half term, and he had only seen two other people in the studio, and neither of them stayed for very long. He knows he looks a mess, he doesn't even bother to sort out his hair before shoving on his hoodie and leaving, deciding on his way out that he's going to smoke an unfiltered cigarette anyway and deal with the horrid aftertaste on his tongue. A smoke while he walked always calmed him down, which was much needed, he felt like he was going to cry already at the thought of arguing when he got home. Hopefully they would just yell at him, he would apologise and they could forget it all. But he really doubted that. 

They all had separate apartments, Grantaire's being the smallest and the one they spent least time in. Enjolras' was the biggest, so when they all got together it made sense to go over there, where there was plenty of room in the living room for them all, and a big enough bed for them to all fit in. Grantaire just had a three-quarter bed in his flat, and it was a nightmare if they all wanted to stay over. As he anticipated, after unlocking the door and walking through the hall in his boots, he was greeted with the sight of Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Enjolras sat next to each other on his beaten-up sofa. Their stares were enough to fill him with dread, to make him feel utterly abysmal. He's going to have to try and diffuse this situation fast. 

“Look before you say anything I can-”

“Kneel.”

The command comes from Enjolras, sharp and firm, and Grantaire is dropping to his knees on the carpet, just blinking in surprise. He's already confused, he kneels when they're in the bedroom, when they're having sex, not when they're angry with him. And he was pretty sure they weren't all about to have sex right now, not judging by their expressions.

“Can you tell us the safewords please Grantaire?” Combeferre asks him firmly, his usual gentleness still there, which makes Grantaire feel a little less worried, and a little more trusting.

Grantaire nods slowly, eyes focused on Combeferre just for the moment. “Green for good, yellow for slow down, red for stop,” He tells him, repeating the safe words they had all agreed on. “But I don't see why I have to-”

“You haven't been given permission to speak Grantaire,” Enjolras snaps at him, his gaze burning right through Grantaire, making him gulp loudly. Each one of his boyfriends wore a different expression. Enjolras, utterly furious with him, Combeferre disappointed, Courfeyrac concerned. And while one stung on their own; it was almost unbearable to look at them all, bearing down on him like that.

“You worry us so much Grantaire!” Courf blurts out, leaning forwards and sighing, before resting his head on Combeferre's shoulder. “Your health is so important, and you've been neglecting it.”

“You stink,” Enjolras tells him pointedly, not bothering to try and be kind about it. Grantaire just shrinks in on himself. It had only been four days, but Paris had been hot the past few weeks, and in the same clothes, stood in front of full windows with the sun on him, he was sure he certainly would smell ripe. But it wasn't as if he was expecting to be in company....

“You haven't slept properly and it shows on your face, in your body,” Combeferre says shaking his head. Grantaire feels utterly disgusting. Revolting, repulsive. They were going to break up with him weren't they. He was knelt on the floor stinking and tired, and they had probably never seen someone more offputting.

He looks up when he hears movement, seeing Enjolras drop in front of him. Of course he would be the one to deliver the blow. Enjolras was so stern and unforgiving with him sometimes, it made sense he would be the one to deal with the breakup. His thought-path means he's confused, completely so, when Enjolras hooks his fingers under his chin and kisses him softly, Grantaire responding immediately, all but melting into the kiss. He feels Combeferre and Courfeyrac embrace him, strong arms around his waist, lips on his neck, all three of them pressed up close against him. 

“We love you so much Grantaire,” Enjolras mumbles against his lips, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw, disapproving of the stubble there. It wasn't so bad when it was deliberate facial hair, but this was unkempt and accidental, because their boyfriend wasn't taking care of himself.

“Work is important but whats most important is you Grantaire,” Courfeyrac tells him, whispering in his ear as Enjolras devours his mouth again, his tongue seeking entrance, and Grantaire only happy to oblige. “You can't spend days on end at the studio like that, it's not healthy at all, and you will suffer.”

“This weeks medicine in your box is untouched since Monday, you haven't even taken any have you,” Combeferre says in his other ear, his voice low and rumbling. He tries to shake his head but Enjolras holds him firm, making him focus on just listening, and kissing. Enjolras pulls away eventually, teeth scraping against his bottom lip, Grantaire kissed out enough to be panting a little bit. 

“We've decided we're going to punish you,” Combeferre says, and when Grantaire lets out a high pitched whine of protest, Enjolras frowns at him deeply. 

“We love you, repeat it,” Enjolras tells him firmly, stroking his jaw softer than before, his grip on his chin looser now.

“You love me,” He mumbles.

“And it's because we love you that we're going to punish you,” Enjolras continues. “You need to realise that your health and happiness are what is most important. More important than your paintings, your schoolwork, your relationships and even friendships. We want you to remember this, and how we feel about it. We want you to prioritise yourself above everything else.”

“I will, I wont do this again,” Grantaire murmurs. But he knows thats not going to get him out of it. They all move away from him in unison, rising to stand up. Sometimes it creeped Grantaire out how in sync they were. Sometimes it made him feel a little left out. But mostly it made him feel lucky to have boyfriends so in tune, because he knew they were also awfully in tune with him too.

“Whats your colour right now?” Courfeyrac asks him kindly, running his fingers through Grantaire's greasy locks, before, understandably, withdrawing his hand. 

“Green,” He tells them confidently. He understood what they were doing, even if punishment didn't sound fun at all, he knew why it had to happen. And he wanted it to happen too. He wanted to remember, to feel those disappointed stares whenever he did something stupid like this. Because this really wasn't the first time. 

“He stinks,” Enjolras repeats with a wrinkled nose, though he says it to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who simply laugh at him.

“He smells like sweat and paint and cigarettes, its not that disgusting,” Courfeyrac says with a laugh, which makes everyone smile, even Grantaire. He was glad it wasn't that bad, he really didn't want to make his boyfriends gag with his smell, that would be the most mortifying thing in the world.

“Youre going to undress, and put those clothes straight into the laundry basket,” Combeferre tells him, a hand on Courfeyrac's and Enjolras' back. He felt utterly ganged up on when they stood like that. And he loved it. “Then go into the bedroom, bend over the bottom of your bed, leant on your elbows with your legs spread. We will each punish you in turn, then you will shower and we will go out for dinner. Understood?”

“Yes, I understand,” Grantaire says quickly, nodding his head at all three of them.

“Then why are you still standing here?” Enjolras quips, a smirk forming on his face. He was filled with a mix of dread and excitement at what Enjolras might have planned for him. He scurries off as fast as his short, stocky legs can carry him, heading straight for his bathroom. He peels off all his paint and sweat stained clothes, tossing them into the hamper in the corner, pausing to look at his reflection. His dark skin looks almost grey, bags under his eyes, his hair lank and slightly sticking to his forehead. He really did look gross, he really is surprised his boyfriends even wanted to touch him. He resists the urge to clean himself up, he hadn't been instructed to, and he didn't want to do something wrong. He casts one last grimace at his reflection before heading into his modest sized bedroom, shivering and getting into position, feeling awkward and vulnerable with his ass pushed up in the air, his face away from the door.

The first smack comes without warning, Grantaire not even given time to be aware he's not alone any longer, just a hand coming down firmly against his ass, his flesh rippling with the force of it, Grantaire yelping loudly, and arching his back in the air. “You've been a bad boy Grantaire,” Combeferre says sternly, tutting at him as his fingers massage his fast-reddening cheek. “You've disappointed your boyfriends and failed to take care of yourself. How can you be good for us if you can't even look after yourself?”

Grantaire just whimpers.

“I'm going to spank you twenty times,” Combeferre continues, his hand coming down to strike him without warning on the left side now, Grantaire answering it with another beautiful yelp, jerking forwards once more. “You're going to be a good boy and take the spankings, and understand how upset I am with you. I love you, and I wont stand for you behaving like this. Colour?”

“Green,” Grantaire whispers, his eyes sliding shut as Combeferre's hand makes contact with his skin once more. Enjolras and Courfeyrac shift to stand either side of the bed, he can feel their presence heavy in the room, can see them when he opens slightly teary eyes, his mouth slack and open, cries escaping each time he's spanked. Oh he's truly sorry. He doesn't want to upset Combeferre. Combeferre is so kind to him, he talks to Grantaire when he needs it, he reminds him to take his anti-depressants and cooks the most delicious meals. He didn't want to upset him like this again. He cries out every time without fail, hearing Combeferre murmuring, though not able to make much of it out, but he catches odd phrases like “so beautiful”, “skins so red”, and “thats it good boy”. All he wanted to do was make his boyfriends happy. He worried so much that he wasn't a good boyfriend, and the past few days holed up in the studio clearly hadn't helped. He didn't know what he was thinking. He was foolish.

It seems to end before he's fully had time to process it, his behind stinging awfully when Combeferre is kneeling in front of him, stroking his hair, urging him to look up at him. “Ferre...” He murmurs, sniffling a little, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. “I'm sorry Ferre...”

Combeferre smiles and kisses him, cupping his cheek, stroking his face. “I know you are. I know you wont do it again,” He says firmly. He had faith in Grantaire. Nobody ever had faith in him. It made his heart soar.

“Combeferre is too soft on you, you're not going to remember just getting a little spanking,” Enjolras says, disappearing in his closet, and returning with a thick leather belt. Grantaire's eyes go wide and he panicks for a second, worried Enjolras actually wants to hurt him. Enjolras notices and shushes him, leaning down and kissing him gently. “I will not break your skin, I will not cause any serious harm,” He tells him, his expression soft as he tries to read Grantaire. “But I think you deserve a harsher punishment for upsetting us and worrying us. And I think you can take it, you're strong Grantaire, you're a beautiful sub. We've done more painful things for pleasure and you've taken it. Can you take this?”

Grantaire considers it for a moment. If it were anyone else he would have said no. And if things were different and it was Enjolras alone, he wouldn't have hesitated at all, blindly trusting him. But over time, and with the three of them, he had learnt not to put Enjolras on a pedastal. He had his faults as did everyone. And he had decided long ago that if Combeferre and Courfeyrac had to earn his trust, then so did Enjolras. He wasn't any different. And earn his trust he had, he had had more ups and downs with him, had gotten on better with Combeferre, but had decided he got on best with all three of them together. He loved them all equally and it didn't take long to find an arrangement where all three of them could be happy. “I trust you,” He tells him with a nod.

Enjolras is behind him within a few seconds, folding up the belt in his hands. He knows this will be much harsher, and much harder to handle. Courfeyrac joins Combeferre on the bed, pressing a hand to Grantaire's shoulder. “Look at us okay,” He tells him with a smile. “Take this punishment for us, show us how sorry you are.” Thats all it takes for Grantaire to nod, eyes open this time, focused on the two holding hands in front of him, trying not to tremble, though failing terribly. The first blow makes him scream. It's a blinding pain to his ass, a stripe across both cheeks, one firm and hard, bound to leave a big mark. Grantaire can feel those tingling sensations between his legs though. He imagines that Enjolras would be even harder on him if he knew he was aroused by this. But he couldn't help himself. Enjolras hits him two more times, not negecting his thighs with his assault, and when he notices Grantaire shaking and moves to spread his legs to give him better footing on the bed, he notices his erection.

“He's hard,” Enjolras states, his voice would sound unemotional and clinical to most, but Grantaire could pick up on the slight raise of pitch at the end. He would bet his money on Enjolras being hard too. “Are you enjoying this Grantaire? Does it turn you on?” Courfeyrac asks him curiously, bending down to get a good look between Grantaire's legs, grinning at his discovery. They all thought he looks so beautiful when he was aroused. Grantaire only answered with a whimper, hanging his head in shame.

“You answer the question boy, or I will strike this belt over your balls,” Enjolras growls, pressing the warm leather against his sac. Grantaire let out a sobbing noise, he wasn't sure if he would hate that, or if it would turn him on even more. “I'm sorry...I'm sorry for what I did, it hurts so much...its not even the pain that turns me on its being taught a lesson and, I-I'm sorry I truly am!” He wails, his words gushing out. Enjolras strikes him again twice, he's clever and avoids his previous marks. Grantaire wont be able to sit comfortably for a week. He's worried, but when he looks up Combeferre and Courfeyrac are smiling at him. Are they proud? He doesn't have the strength to ask. Enjolras ignores his erection and leaves the threat, striking him until he reaches ten, until Grantaire's ass is purple and almost welting. He puts the belt down and presses a kiss to his back, then another, moving to get on the bed and kissing all the way up his spine, soft and gentle. 

“You did so well, I'm proud of you,” Enjolras whispers, and he doesn't complain when Grantaire's knees give out and he collapses onto his stomach, ignoring the friction problem this creates against his crotch. “Are you sorry?”

“Yes, I'm sorry...god fuck I will never, never do it again,” Grantaire whispers hoarsely. When he looks up Enjolras is taking off his shirt, then going back to pressing kisses to his shoulder. “You're not done yet. Courfeyrac still has to punish you.”

Courfeyrac has a twisted smirk on his face that makes Grantaire more scared than he was of the belt. Courfeyrac wasn't big on sadism, so he doubted he would be spanking him, it wasn't his style. “You're not the only horny one you know Grantaire,” He purrs. “Your boyfriends have needs too. And we haven't gotten any for four days because you've been sleeping in a studio and neglecting us. Don't you think thats mean? We wouldn't dream of doing anything without you, but now we're all tense and in need of orgasms.”

Grantaire grins widely at that. Maybe Courfeyrac was just going to forgive him. “Can I get all of you off? Please?” He asks, looking from one to the other.

“Please do Grantaire,” Courfeyrac says with a wide grin, moving to stand, Combeferre doing the same. He watches as Combeferre goes to his bag and pulls out a cream, moving behind Grantaire and starting to apply it to his sore behind. They really did take care of him. When they were all aroused and hungry for each other, they still thought about taking care of him. “You're going on your back,” Combeferre tells him, before moving him over, Courfeyrac there to put a pillow under his ass, Grantaire hissing at the sensation, but its soft and cool, and he gets used to it quickly. 

Courfeyrac moves to sit in front of him, pressing Grantaire's thighs together, but parting his legs at the knees, resting his ankles on his shoulders as he unzips his trousers, pulling his cock out. He takes the lube off a helpful Combeferre and slicks himself up, before pushing his cock between Grantaire's thick thighs, a smile on his face. He's not paying enough attention, because he doesn't even notice what Combeferre and Enjolras are doing until he feels their erections heavy in each of his palms, instantly wrapping his hand around them both, looking around and grinning at his boyfriends. Courfeyrac rocks his hips forwards and reached around, running his fingers over Grantaire's shaft. “I didn't forget about how you upset us Grantaire,” He purrs as he lazily thrusts forwards, all three of them almost rocking their hips towards him in tandem. “My punishment is that you're not allowed to cum. Not today. If you don't get us off, and if you blow your load, none of us will be touching you for a week.”

Courfeyrac was the cruelest. Definitely. Grantaire doesn't hold back his half-moans, half-sobs this time, just letting the tears trickle down his cheeks, over-stimulated already, overwhelmed. This was the worst punishment by far. He had terrible self control, but he couldn't bear the thought of not being able to touch them for a week, he would die he was sure. “I'll never...I'll never do this again I promise,” He gushes, gasping as Courfeyrac deliberately rubs his cock over Grantaire's balls, grinning widely before looking up. “Don't neglect your other loves Grantaire,” He warns him.

Above him Enjolras and Combeferre meet above him, kissing hard and heavy, hands wandering over Grantaire's chest, playing with his hairs and his nipples, cruelly teasing him as they both thrust their hips into his fists, groaning into each others mouths. He was hot all over, the sight of them both was just beautiful, and not one of his boyfriends let him rest for a second, nobody stopped touching and teasing him, and before long he felt like he was going to burst. “Please!” He groans, throwing his head back, throat exposed, hands moving faster, fists tighter around Enjolras and Combeferre, determined to make them feel good, to make them forgive him. 

“I'm close Grantaire,” Courfeyrac moans against his calf, face pressed up against the skin there, not minding one bit getting a mouth full of his leg hair, just wanting to kiss and moan against his skin as he gets off. Courfeyrac cums first with a delighted laugh, splattering his cum all over Grantaire's stomach, collapsing over him, letting his legs drop and pressing a kiss to his thigh. In sync as always Combeferre and Enjolras twist their bodies, Enjolras climaxing first all over his chest, then Combeferre last, adding his cum to the mess all over Grantaire's body. If he wasn't filthy before he certainly was now.

“There is not enough room for us all in this bed,” Enjolras grumbles, and Grantaire just laughs, still trembling from being so close, yet proud of himself for not coming and making a mess, not disappointing them and being a good sub, a good boy. “Love you,” Grantaire mumbles tiredly, his eyes sliding shut.

“Don't you even think about it,” Combeferre barks, smacking his thigh with a chuckle, bringing Grantaire out from his daze. “We're having dinner remember? We missed our boyfriend too much, we want to treat him to a proper dinner, then curl up on the sofa with him and watch the DVD Enjolras rented four days ago that we never got to watch. Go on. Go shower and get ready.”

Every part of Grantaire aches as he gets up, shuffling his way to the bathroom. He pauses in the door to look back at his three boyfriends, Enjolras already complaining about being sweaty and cleaning himself up with wet wipes, Courfeyrac affectionately kissing Combeferres cheek while they both start to clean up Grantaire's room. He wouldn't have it any other way. They loved him so much, and he loved them. It wasn't one sided, nobody loved one more than they loved the other. It was perfect, and this right here, was the happiest he had ever bee.


End file.
